This Thing We Call Family
by SilverChrysanth
Summary: Before, they were nothing more than a team, brought together by one common interest and a certain spherical orb in the sky. But after the defeat of Pitch Black, somehow, someway, things changed. It was such a subtle thing that by the time they realized it, it was far too late. They were now a family. But even if they didn't admit it, no one seemed to mind.
1. Hot Months

_This will be a collection of prompts, one-shots, and maybe some multi-chapter arcs. I started this project of sorts a while back, and I think I'm finally going through with it. This is one of absolute favorite movies, so why not?_

* * *

Jack wasn't scared. Nope. Not even a little bit. It just wasn't something to be afraid of. If the Boogeyman was around, he wouldn't be able to sense Jack at all. That was how not-afraid he was.

Anxious? Well, that was a whole different snowball game. And he should know. Because being anxious about this kind of thing was normal. He hardly even _knew_ the Guardians, except for Sandy, but he wasn't _asking_ Sandy. No, he was asking North. And even though the big, jolly man was usually in a good mood, he was always afrai— anxious that he would make him angry somehow. It was almost funny because he never had before (yet), though he could make Bunny angry without even trying to.

Now, there were other options. He may have been all about fun and throwing small, perfectly packed snowballs at anything unfortunate enough to move, but he was also prepared for a lot of things. Maybe it was because he was alone for all those years, or maybe because it was a necessity, but Jack always planned for the Spring and Summer months. The latest he could stay was usually late May, but he would be tired and sluggish by the time he finally moved his butt to colder regions. Usually it was Antarctica, or the South Pole (the North had usually been a sore spot for him, so he avoided it altogether the past three centuries). Sometimes he went to Canada, and every once in a while, he went to Greenland for a change in scenery.

But not this year. This year was different. This year, he was a Guardian.

At first, he wasn't going to even _think_ about asking. He was just going to do what he always did. After all, he hadn't been to Canada in a while, so he figured it would be a good place to go. But then he realized that if he did that, he would have to tell them. And _then_ they might offer, but only because they felt guilty, and he didn't want them feeling guilty. So the next best thing was to just suck it up and ask North if he could stay at the Pole.

So here he was, taking deep breaths to keep himself calm, although judging by how white his knuckles were on the hand that held his staff, it wasn't really working. He was standing in front of North's office (was it an office? Jack didn't really know), arm repeatedly going up to knock and then falling back down like he was cheering someone on.

"Come on," he mumbled to himself. "It's not that hard. Just a few, short words. 'Can I stay with you?' Totally easy." He shook his head to clear it, stepped closer to the door, and then back to his original position. Ok, maybe not so easy.

He might have stood there until North himself actually exited the room, but then, as his arm was currently in the 'up' position, he heard a large crash from somewhere in the workshop. Somehow, his mind translated the reaction to 'crashing into the door', and before he knew it, one of them was open and a large Guardian was standing just inside the room.

"Ah, Jack!" North bellowed, throwing out his arms in Jack's only warning before the Winter spirit was promptly crushed in a bear hug. "Iz good to see you!"

Jack laughed breathlessly. "Good to see you too, North."

The old man finally put Jack down, clapping him on the back as if he didn't already have enough trouble catching his breath. "What brings you to Pole?" Not that the old Russian wasn't happy to see Jack. On the contrary, he had a fondness for the boy that went beyond his usual protectiveness of children.

Lungs forgotten, Jack rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand nervously. "Yeah… that's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually."

North's expression immediately turned serious, picking up on the Winter spirit's discomfort. He stepped aside, motioning for the boy to enter. "Come."

Jack entered the room, moving to sit in a huge, overstuffed chair near a window. He smiled when North came over and opened the window for him, knowing full well that it would make him feel like he wasn't trapped, before sitting in the chair opposite the boy.

"Now," North said, placing both hands on his knees. "What troubles you?"

Jack shrugged. "It isn't trouble, really. I just wanted to ask you something."

"You're welcome to ask anything of me. You know that," North said.

"I know that, which I appreciate, by the way." The Winter spirit fiddled with his staff, glancing out the window and wishing he was outside causing a storm right about then. "Y'see, I kind of… have to stay away from Burgess during the Summer months. Obviously, I can't really be in the heat all too much, or else I start to, ah, melt, for lack of a better word."

North nodded. He knew what it was like to be out of his element, but he knew he could never relate to how fatal it could be for a Winter spirit to be underneath a hot sun for too long. It was a thing he didn't like to think too deeply about, especially when it came to the spirit sitting in front of him.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck again, waiting for the older man's words. When none came, he continued. "So, I need to stay somewhere that's cold. Normally, I just go to, I don't know, wherever it isn't Summer. This year, I would probably go to Canada. But then I realized that I would miss our monthly meetings." As soon as he said it he realized that was a lame excuse, but he couldn't take it back now. "And you guys wouldn't like that, so I figured… maybe I… can I… stay here? Just until the Fall?"

Silence.

He'd been looking down and now didn't look up, didn't want to look up. He was afraid he'd be rejected, or brushed off with excuses about Christmas preparations and his mischief influencing the elves. Really, it wasn't like North didn't _like_ him, but who would want a hyperactive teenager in their home 24/7, for _several_ months, all throughout Spring and Summer? And he was used to it. He'd only been a Guardian for, like, two weeks. It was all so new to him, and he was just getting over Sandy's almost-death. And then there was that whole almost-freezing-half-the-workshop incident the other day…

"Jack."

His head jerked up involuntarily, his bangs flying. "What?"

North didn't look mad, or annoyed. In fact, he looked rather thoughtful, as if trying to decide something. And not something bad, either. "I waz not going to tell you about 'zis until later, but…" he stood up, motioning for Jack to follow him.

"Tell me what?" Jack asked nervously, standing to follow North as he exited the room, imagining all sorts of things.

"Iz surprise," was all the answer North gave. He figured if he had to spoil it so soon, he wanted it to last as long as possible.

Jack was led down halls and corridors that he'd never been down before (something he planned on fixing in the future), doors of different shapes, sizes, colors and wood adorning the walls. Jack marveled at all of them, wondering just how big Santoff Claussen really was, brief excitement bubbling inside him at the prospect of having even more rooms to explore before he was reminded that he might not come back for a long while. After a few minutes, the doors became less frequent, and the rug changed from a festive cherry color with Christmas-y details to a simple dark red, until North finally stopped at a set of double doors across from a large window, in an otherwise empty hallway.

North stepped aside, motioning to the door, hardly able to restrain his glee. "Go ahead, Jack."

The Winter spirit's eyebrows furrowed. "What is it?"

"Just look, and you'll see," the older man replied cryptically.

Jack stepped forward, gripping his staff tightly and placing his empty hand on the smooth doorknob, its silver surface reflecting the light from the window. It turned without a sound, and the door opened inward smoothly. With a small nudge from North, Jack stepped inside, and promptly got the wind knocked out of him.

The room wasn't too big or too small, but just the right size for living in. And it looked as if it _was_ living. The ceiling gently curved skyward into a dome, and across its bright blue surface, clouds actually _moved_ as Wind happily blew around the room. There was even a small sun, hovering in the corner and shining unobtrusively.

The dome sloped into the wooden walls where trees had been carved in sharp relief, and with every gust and sigh of Wind, the etched branches would tremble and sway. Their trunks bent and moved with the clouds above, and a mist of falling winter snow covered some of them. Jack could actually hear the branches creaking and smell the pine needles through the snow. He had the urge to reach out and touch them, as if they would feel rough and uneven like the kind he always sat in.

But the floor… the floor was the best part, and Jack's mouth opened in awe when he looked down. There was a short stretch of flat rock beneath him circling the door, but every other inch of the floor was made of the smoothest ice (or was it glass?) he had ever seen, not a scratch or a nick visible anywhere. Dark water flowed beneath it, causing the light from the sun to cast shimmering patterns on the walls.

The only break in the illusion was the open window directly ahead of him, looking out into the snowy land of the Pole from which Wind blew inside, but it didn't hinder the room at all. There was a bed in one corner, a dresser, nightstand, and even a table and chair. They were also lovingly carved, although the scenes depicted in their wood were stationary.

The sound of a throat clearing behind him startled him out of his revelry, and he turned around to see North looking at him. The large Russian, usually so intimidating, looked at him eagerly, almost nervously.

"Well, Jack? What do you think?"

The Winter spirit blinked a few times. "What do I think?" he echoed.

"Yes," the elder Guardian nodded. "It iz your room, no? I made it very special, just for you."

For the second time, Jack felt the wind get knocked out of him. "This is… mine?"

North nodded again, his eyes shining.

"You made it, for me?"

North chuckled. "Yes, Jack. We established thiz. It was supposed to be Christmas present, but I did not even think about Summer months. Now I just have to make new present," he added, eyes already twinkling with ideas. "But now, you have permanent home here, to come and go as you please."

But Jack wasn't smiling. Although it wasn't because he was unhappy. He turned back to look at the beautiful room. How _long_ had this taken North? He must have spent so much time building it, just for Jack. No one had ever built him a present, let alone _given_ him one. Some random room in the Santoff Claussen would have worked just fine, but North had actually taken the time to make one that was personal. It felt… Jack didn't know how it felt, because it'd been a long time since he was alive, which was when he had.

"Jack?" North said quietly. He was now afraid he'd scared the boy somehow. "If you do not like it, I can always-"

Whatever he was going to say next was pushed out of him with an _oof_ when suddenly the man found his arms full of Winter spirit, the boy hugging him so tightly he was almost knocked down. Absently, North wondered how _strong_ Jack was because, although it didn't hurt, it certainly wasn't _light_.

"It's… I love it," came the words, muffled by the Guardian's red coat. "Don't change a thing."

North smiled, fully returning the embrace, so used to the cold that he ignored the waves coming off of Jack. He knew that the young spirit did not usually enjoy physical contact, so he felt pleasantly surprised by the reaction.

Jack didn't think that the elder Guardian liked him well enough to actually offer him a place to stay and to call his own. If he'd had to guess, he would've thought that Tooth would have been the best option, as motherly as she was. Or even Sandy, whom Jack had the longest relationship with out of all the Guardians. This was a huge surprise to him. Because the only home he knew as a Winter spirit was his pond, and while he loved it, he had only Wind for company. But not here.

Here, he had friends.


	2. Like a Big Brother

The first few years of his life, especially the first few weeks, were the hardest. Men, women, boys, girls—they all walked right through him. Animals saw him, but there weren't very many that could stand the cold, so he mostly stayed around the villagers. He always ended up being walked through more often then not, until he learned to see or hear people coming and get out of their way. He learned to ignore the logic that they would see him and move out of the way, because that logic was for people who were seen.

But even with all that, it didn't take him very long to realize that he found joy in one thing: snowball fights. Making it snow was second nature to him, and mastering the art of creating patterns with frost was really just a hobby. No, the real fun came from the wonderful combination that was known as children and snow. It was a little awkward at first, talking and laughing as if they could hear him, but after a while of flitting, dancing, and even flying around the kids as they had battles and built forts, they became as natural to him as the ice that permanently coated his staff. There was nothing better than seeing the kids' faces light up with joy, their cheeks and noses from the red but not seeming to bother them one bit.

And with the help of Wind, his only companion, he would soar over states and continents, provinces and lands, countries and kingdoms. He brought snow wherever it was needed (and maybe some places where it wasn't), seeing things he had never before dreamed, or thought he would have had he been alive long enough to think of such things. And despite the people and how different they and their countries were, the kids' love of snow never changed.

But then the Spring and Summer months would arrive, and he would have to leave his lake for a long time and not because he wanted to. He had found out the hard way that heat and the sun that was suddenly way too close made him sick and way too hot, and the only way to avoid both of those things was to move with the weather. It was weird, having the freedom not to be tied down to one place but at the same time bound by the seasons. Those months seemed made to remind him of his situation, but it also gave him a feeling that felt a lot like loneliness.

The first few years, he thought this sadness was because he had to leave his lake. It was his home, where he had first opened his eyes and where he'd found his beloved staff. He never strayed too far from it, and only his self-appointed job as the spirit of winter and fun got him to go to other countries to spread his snow around. Besides his conduit and the clothes on his back, it was his only possession, if it could really be called that. It was the only thing that was _his_ and where he belonged, and the kids always enjoyed skating on it, so of course he _had_ to make sure the ice was thick enough for them. He never really knew why, but the thought of one of them falling in and drowning terrified him, so he kept it frozen to the last possible day. He had the overwhelming urge to keep them safe, even if it was a little unnecessary.

It took him a long time to realize that there was another reason he never moved on, something that kept him grounded as much as a winter spirit could be. Or in this case, someone. A little girl, to be exact. The first time he saw her, he stood in place, observing her as she wandered through the village in seemingly no specific direction. He'd only been awake a few weeks then, and several people walked through him before he snapped out of it and took off into the air. But he didn't go very far. Because this little girl with the straight hair and eyes the color of soil right before it snowed looked so… sad. She didn't play much with the other children, and would go about her day quietly. Her eyes always seemed to be red, except not the good kind from being out in the cold throwing snowballs.

Jack didn't know why she looked this way, but he wanted to cheer her up. Maybe it was because she never seemed to be happy, an almost haunted air about her that never seemed to go away. He tried to figure out why she was like that, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out the reason.

Whatever the case was, he decided he would make it his mission to make her happy again.

When he first learned about his unique powers that no one else seemed to have, he experimented with it often, partly to see what all he could do and partly because it was all he really could do. It was mostly for himself, so he thought that maybe it could make her happy too. So every time he was in the village, he would stay close to her and create the best snowflakes. He'd make snowmen outside the windows of her home so that when she looked out of any of them she'd see a smiling face. Once he even made a miniature version on the outside windowsill of her bedroom. She seemed to love everything about the snow, and each time she saw it her eyes would light up.

The only place she never went at all was his lake. At first, Jack would make it as solid and as smooth as possible, waiting for her to show up with the other kids and ice skate. But no matter what he did or how many kids were there, she wouldn't come. She'd even avoid any frozen puddles around the village. It made Jack wonder, but he stuck to his other methods.

As time went on the little girl grew, bigger each time Jack returned for the cold months. The shadows that followed her like Wind followed Jack gradually went away, and she started to play more. He even made her smile one night when, with one hand on the windowpane, he'd discovered that he could make patterns with his fingers out of frost.

Then one day, something was different.

It had been a long spring and summer, and Jack flew as fast as he could back to his village, longing for his lake and the trees and the cold. He went to his lake first, checking it over like he did each year to see if anything had changed while he was gone. When he was satisfied in his inspection, he raced to the town, snow following in his wake in excitement of the coming winter.

When he got to it, he made sure there were enough clouds overhead before he flew low to the ground, searching for the person he called friend. It didn't take long to find her, taking a walk through a path guarded by trees. Jack grinned, slowing to a stop in a tree and raising his staff in preparation of a gentle snowfall, his way of telling her that he was back and she'd be okay even if she didn't know about it.

And then he saw the boy come up behind her.

She did too, and when she looked at him, she smiled, and ran into his arms. They started to speak, the words lost on Jack as the girl's entire demeanor shifted. Not only did she smile, but she laughed too. It was different from all the other times he had seen her, and she didn't seem to even notice the snow starting to fall.

Jack didn't know what to do. He felt hurt and betrayed, but he didn't know why. It wasn't like he expected her to be young forever, but he'd gotten so used to her presence and making her smile that to see someone else being the cause of it made him feel truly invisible, in a way he hadn't in a while. She could never see him, but it never felt that way, at least until now.

Jack didn't realize the snow was picking up until he saw the girl shivering at the sudden drop in temperature, and his staff's designs glowing bright blue under his tight grip. He took a deep breath, calming himself down and letting the temperature rise and the flurries slow down again. He looked at the girl, at his friend, at how the boy had given her his cloak and had her arm in his as they strolled down the path.

But… she was happy. Wasn't that all that mattered? Jack spent years (had it really been that long?) trying to cheer her up, and to be honest he'd never really known why. It's like it was more than just entertaining a child with snow and fun. Something Jack couldn't really describe. And maybe, just maybe, it was okay. He still wasn't sure about the boy, but the girl seemed different, almost at a place she hadn't been as long as Jack had been alive.

But that didn't mean Jack wouldn't be there for her, oh no. He'd made her a promise that first day, when she was sitting alone on the hill overlooking his lake with tears coming from her eyes. He would always watch over her, and he'd do the same for her children, and her grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. He'd made her that special promise.

Just like a big brother might.

* * *

 _The next chapter should have more action in it!_


	3. What Goes Together, Better

_A little late and a little short. Just a bit. Also, I'm still working on the "action" chapters._

* * *

What goes together better than cold and dark?

Those words followed Jack Frost everywhere. Weeks after the battle with Pitch, those words rang in his head every other day, making him zone out for a few seconds, which wasn't much to anyone else, but with the overactive, "can't-sit-still-for-three-seconds" Jack, it was a lifetime. He'd wonder, until something new grabbed his attention and he forgot about it again.

But it was always there.

Because he knew, deep down, that the Boogeyman was right. It was the reason that for a split second, Jack had actually _considered_ it. Sure, he had just been rejected by the first people to actually interact with him (who were still alive at the time, anyway) in his whole three-hundred years without so much as a chance to explain himself. He could have blamed it on his raging emotions and his ever-growing despair about being left alone again, but no matter how he looked at it, he had still wondered—wondered what the world would be like with Jack Frost and Pitch Black.

Of course, his fun-loving nature had won out in the end. He knew that if he had accepted, the children would not only believe in him, but they would _fear_ him too. And he didn't want that. All he wanted was to be believed in, to be seen while he was starting snowball fights and making snow so thick and high that the kids got out of school for a day or two. Maybe someone would even admire his work, the patterns of frost and ice that he painstakingly crafted on windows and car windshields. He didn't really it'd happen, but he hoped all the same.

He just didn't understand why those words still stuck with him longer than the time Jamie's tongue was stuck on a frozen pole. He knew that Pitch was trying to manipulate him, trying to use him to defeat the Guardians, but at the same time (the reason he never told the Guardians the whole story about their encounter), he also understood that Pitch was being truthful when he talked about being alone, and just wanting someone to actually believe in him.

He wondered what the others would say. Would they be angry, or would they understand? But he knew they couldn't understand, not really, what it was like to be alone for so long. They'd always had each other and the children had always believed in them. Jack was born alone and stayed alone for centuries, and even the other winter spirits didn't much like him when they were still around.

But Pitch understood what the Guardians didn't. He understood what it meant to really be alone, to be ignored or hated just for doing what he was made to do. Each of the Guardians had the bright, happy jobs. They weren't easy by any stretch, but they brought joy and happiness to the kids and something special. But Pitch and Jack were different. Jack was fun, but it was something he'd brought to his duty and his season on his own. Otherwise? They were needed. They were _necessary_. Winter came before spring, and was necessary for a chance to rest. Fear was needed to warn against danger and bad things.

It was tempting. Maybe if things had been worse, or Jack hadn't been in his element, things would have turned out differently.

But, all in all, they hadn't. Jack knew what his duty was, what he was meant to be, as the Spirit of winter and a Guardian. He wasn't a child in the normal sense of the word anymore, no matter how much he looked like one. And however Pitch had gained his powers, he had gone too far and started using them to hurt humans. That wasn't something Jack could allow, and he would never betray the other Guardians now.

So he'd put those feelings in the back of his mind and ignore them. He probably wouldn't forget, but he didn't have to face them alone. Maybe one day he'd tell the others, but for now he was content to let it be. He did have a job to do, after all.


	4. Empathy

_Before I begin I wanted to thank everyone for the feedback! I always enjoy reading the reviews :)_

 _Also, to address some of them, I need to say that I haven't gotten around to reading the books yet, and am going purely off of the movie's somewhat minimal lore. So I'll be making a lot of things up as I go along._

* * *

Jack saw him, standing on the edge of a cliff, his shadows blending in so well with those of the tree he was next to that he couldn't tell them apart. His grip tightened on his glowing staff, and Wind blew around him in warning, causing the snow to drift and the spirit's robes to ripple.

"Pitch," Jack growled, trying to be intimidating.

"Hello, Frost," the spirit replied, turning his head only a little so that one pale golden iris gleamed at him. "Lovely night with no moon to spoil it, don't you think?"

Jack pointed his staff at his enemy, ignoring the jab. "What are you doing here?"

Pitch looked away again. "I was just taking a stroll along the forest's edge, or aren't I allowed that any longer?"

"Not when you're so close to my town."

"Am I? I hadn't noticed."

Jack moved closer. "Quit playing games with me. What are you planning?"

"Nothing."

"You're lying."

"You always believe that about me," Pitch said. "You expect me to be an evil villain, set on the world's destruction and the demise of humanity. My actions are purely for my survival."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Sure. And hurting people is okay because it's the only way they get scared," he added sarcastically.

"If your guardians hadn't interfered, my actions wouldn't have been necessary. Did you ever think of that?"

"We stopped you from a lot of bad things. We protect children."

Pitch scowled, finally turning to look Jack full on, the shadows curling around his shoulders at the motion. "Despite what you believe, you're hardly seasoned in the world. You've only experienced three centuries, and you see everything as black and white. Children never see the gray in between."

Jack blinked. It wasn't necessarily his words (although they helped) that made him do a double take, but more like the man (spirit?) himself. He looked more or less the same as he always did, with the same black robes, inky shadows, and sharp features. But at the same time, he wasn't the same. His words hurt, but they seemed empty, only meant to make him leave. Otherwise he looked… tired.

Jack wasn't stupid (not totally, anyway), but even he could see that the boogeyman wasn't doing so well. He was pale, even for him, and his shoulders slumped farther than he'd ever seen them. He hadn't exactly talked to Pitch much during his life, but of all the times he had or even just seen him, his eyes had never looked so worn or tired, as if he was very, very old.

It made him think of the Arctic, and of how Pitch had been. It wasn't like this, but it was close, as if Jack had only seen the surface of this Pitch. As if everyone had only seen the surface of Pitch.

And for a second—just one second, but it was enough—Jack saw something totally different in the spirit. Something quick and panging and _familiar._ An ache that he'd felt for so long and that at times had crushed him so heavily he thought he wouldn't be able to get back up, to bounce back and crack a smile just as he cracked his staff to make snowstorms. The emotions swirling in Pitch's pale, golden eyes reflected in Jack almost like he held up a mirror to the spirit Jack had been only a few months ago.

And then he realized. Pitch was _lonely_.

The spirit in front of him had lived a long time, much longer than Jack had. He'd spread fear and chaos to so many all over the planet, somewhere going way over the line of what he was supposed to do, and he'd been punished for it. But somewhere deep inside whatever semblance of a heart Pitch had, he wanted to be seen. He wanted to be _believed_ in, wrong reasons or not.

And Jack understood. When he was born he was alone, and the other winter spirits didn't want anything to do with him. Even when one of them made an effort, it was only for so long before she abandoned him too. And now, Pitch stood in front of him, looking as Jack had felt then. They were the same, connected if only by the single thread of this existence. Pitch had done what he thought would get him his belief again, and even as Jack wondered why he didn't do something else; find another way to live again without hurting others, the thought hit the winter spirit that maybe Pitch didn't know how to do it any other way anymore. And it had taken its toll on the boogeyman.

Lost in his thoughts, Jack hadn't even noticed Pitch turn back to his original position without an answer. He stared at his back, the shadows disguising his appearance and making him look the same as he always was again. Jack looked down at his staff that had lowered unconsciously, its markings faded along with his temper.

With nothing left to do, he backed away slowly, allowing Wind to silently lift him into the sky without a word as he left the spirit of fear to his thoughts. He was going to stay, but he figured that Pitch really couldn't do anything where he was, and that he would be better suited closer to Burgess if anything happened, which he doubted. And besides, nobody could ever say that Jack didn't understand what empathy was.


End file.
